


Yellow Hearts

by yours_eternally



Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [21]
Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26043862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: ‘Ready,’ he says breezily, striking a pose and Ricky chuckles, trying not to swallow his one tongue and Chris bends and flexes. Ricky snaps photograph after photograph, perhaps more than necessary, but they’ll want options he can always argue. Chris is on all fours on the dais again and Ricky’s just sort of staring at him, camera hanging loose at his side.Ricky's finding it difficult to remain focused andprofessionalat a afternoon shoot in his studio. And Chris seems in no way inclined to make it any easier on him.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859290
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12
Collections: AUgust 2020





	Yellow Hearts

Ricky carefully lifts the fold of fabric, adjusting it against a pale thigh. His hand is so close he can feel the heat from the model’s skin and he had to remind himself (not for the first time that day) that he was there to take pictures not stare at the models’ cocks. Well, not — _cocks_ — plural. But one particular cock that was currently about two inches from his hand. 

He’d worked with Chris before a few times. But today he’d just happened to stroll into the dressing area (divided from the main studio by a stretch of vintage _Liberty_ fabric Ricky had thrifted himself) spotting him laughing with one of the other guys wearing only a skimpy neutral-toned thong and it had flipped a switch in his brain somewhere. 

Chris was attractive, of course. They all were, so it barely registered anymore. Ricky felt like he just hadn’t _seen_ him before and now he had it was making it difficult for him to concentrate on doing his job. 

‘Like this?’ Chris says, shifting and arching a little more. The movement lets Ricky’s fingertips brush the skin of his inner thigh. It feels like velvet shot through with silk. He snatches his hand back like he’s been burned and his assistant glances at him. 

‘Perfect,’ he mumbles, springing off the dais the models are currently sprawled on. 

It’s a long shoot and it’s nearly eight when they’ve done. He tries not to listen to the models as they pack up their make-up and arrange an Uber pool. His assistant calls goodbye and he nods to them. 

‘Hey, Rick?’ someone says behind him and Ricky slowly revolves to look at them. It’s Chris. Of course. He’s still in his make-up, Ricky’s cock can’t help but notice.

‘What’s up?’ Ricky says, trying for casual but instead sounding like his teeth are clenched, which they are. ‘You had a good shoot today,’ he adds, forcing himself to smile. Chris smiles too and Ricky feels his pulse flicker. _Fuck_. 

‘I don’t want to impose…’ he says, twisting the ring on his thumb, then he sighs, ‘I’m doing this charity thing and I need a couple of pics in the outfit, and you are the best and I’d be grateful forever…’ He flickers his eyelashes at Ricky, palms pressed together, prayerful. 

‘Sure,’ Ricky’s mouth says, ‘um, why don’t you get changed.’ Chris brightens, grinning. He doesn’t bother to go back behind the curtain so Ricky gets busy adjusting the studio umbrellas. He can’t help but watch as Chris bends to wriggling up black pleather that somehow leaves less to the imagination than the thong. 

‘Ready,’ he says breezily, striking a pose and Ricky chuckles, trying not to swallow his one tongue and Chris bends and flexes. Ricky snaps photograph after photograph, perhaps more than necessary, but they’ll want options he can always argue. Chris is on all fours on the dais again and Ricky’s just sort of staring at him, camera hanging loose at his side. 

‘You okay?’ Chris asks, glancing back at him over his shoulder. Ricky flinches realising he’d been caught. 

‘Yeah, sure, sorry,’ he mumbles, ‘I uh spaced out for a minute there.’ 

‘It’s late, huh?’ Chris says, turning to flop on the dais instead, ‘I’m sorry to have kept you so long.’ 

‘I don’t mind,’ Ricky blurts out and Chris grins then he sighs.

‘I guess I better get out of this stuff,’ he says with another deep sigh. As Ricky watches he gets up on his knees again, turning and bending over the steps on the dais, peeling the pleather off his skin. Ricky takes an involuntary step closer. Chris absently slips his thumb under the scrap of fabric that’s between his cheeks, adjusting it slightly so Ricky gets a peek of his perfect pink hole. Ricky pauses. His ears are ringing and he’s not sure what exactly he’s planning on doing. 

‘You can touch me if you want,’ Chris says, voice amused, and Ricky flinches again. But Chris is smiling at him. ‘You want to, right?’ he says, thumb slipping under the fabric again to brush his hole, ‘and I want that too.’ 

‘You do?’ Ricky says, swallowing. His mouth is watering. Chris has pulled the thong completely away now so Ricky can see all his smooth skin. He’s waxed, of course. 

‘Yeah, dude,’ Chris says, sucking at the piercings in his lip, smudging his lipstick.

Ricky sets his camera down and gets on his knees like he’s approaching an altar. He crawls to Chris then bends. He exhales heavily on Chris' skin so he’ll get a hint about what’s about to happen before bending and licking between his cheeks. 

Chris squeaks but doesn’t pull away. Ricky grins, feeling heat spreading under his skin. He hooks his four fingers under the thong pulls, easily snapping the thin fabric. Chris gasps, then giggles. 

‘ _Mm_ it’s been too long since a guy ripped my underwear off,’ he says, laughing. The laugh catches in his throat when Ricky puts his mouth on him again. Chris groans. Ricky laps over his skin. It’s smooth and hot. Ricky presses his tongue against his hole, delighted at the feeling on the muscles contracting. Chris moans, again pressing back into Ricky. Ricky holds his hips keeping him place as his strokes with his tongue. Chris is moaning and squirming against his mouth and Ricky can see his hands are clawed in the fabric on the steps of the dais. 

Ricky sits back, hands smoothing over his ass while he gives them both a breather. 

‘Tell me you have a condom,’ Chris says, head still hanging as he pants. Ricky frowns. The truth is he doesn’t. He decided long ago he was going to have some fucking professional integrity and not screw the models. A decision that had flown out the window the moment Chris had skipped in with that ass and those hands and his dark eyes that Ricky could just drown in. 

‘This is a work space,’ Ricky says primly and Chris groans. 

‘Uh, lame,’ he declares, ‘grab my bag, I'm sure I’ve got one somewhere.’ So Ricky goes and grabs it, handing in over to him. Chris takes it, sitting back on his heels to rifle through it and Ricky takes the opportunity to press a finger into him. Chris gaps, body clenching. 

‘Here,’ he says, voice shaking, as he presses a condom and sachet of lube with a designer logo on it. 

‘What the fuck is this?’ Ricky asks, turning it over. Chris laughs. 

‘The party bags at some of these events are wild,’ he says and Ricky snorts softly. 

‘What else was in the bag?’ Ricky asks, applying the lube to his fingers and slipping two into him at once making him whine. 

‘Mm wouldn’t you like to know,’ Chris purrs, spreading his thighs as much as the pleather around his thighs will allow. Ricky laughs. He reaches for his fly, pulling down his jeans and underwear. His cock is hot to the touch and practically bounces into his hand when he gets his underwear off. He rolls on the condom, moving closer to Chris. 

Chris gasps softly when he feels Ricky guide the head of his cock into his body. Ricky presses into him, camera flashes flicking behind his eyes as he feels Chris’ body contracting. He can feel a flush spreading across his skin and wants to take his shirt off but can’t bring himself to pull away from Chris. Chris moans and Ricky starts to give shallow thrusts, feeling his eyes roll back in his head at the drag of Chris’ skin on his cock. 

Chris moans, arching, wanting it, as Ricky increases his pace. He holds Chris’ hips pulling him back and down into each flex of his hips. Chris gasps, dropping his head onto his forearms so Ricky can push in even deeper. Ricky gasps as well, trying to drag oxygen into his lungs as his hips snap almost of their own accord. They’re skin is sliding as sticking as they sweat. Chris give another deep moan and Ricky takes a hand of hip to grab his cock. 

Ricky can feel his body clutching desperately as Ricky strokes his cock. He works him, short, firm strokes until Chris is whimpering. He feels Chris going rigid, body tight a moment before he groans and Ricky feels him come over his fist. 

Ricky growls, hands tight on Chris’ thighs as he fucks him, feeling his edge. He leans back a little, so he can look at his cock sinking over and over into Chris’ hole, his skin glossy with lube and reddened from the friction. Perhaps it’s a little egotistical but it’s the sight that drags him over the edge. He arches, nails digging into Chris’ skin, as he comes. 

He sits back on his heels, panting, pulling most of the way out of Chris. He watches as Chris shifts and the tip slips out as well. Chris groans, flopping onto his stomach and Ricky laughs. He gets to shaking legs, trashing the used condom and pulling his jeans back up. Chris gets up too, squirming the pleather all the way off and charging into the jeans and leather jacket he’d come in. 

He doesn’t bother to put on underwear, Ricky can’t help but notice. 

‘You hungry?’ Chris asks, stuffing all the things he’d thrown out while searching for the condom back in his bag. ‘My roommate and I are going to crash the opening of that new restaurant on the strip, y’know? The food is meant to be amazing. You wanna come with me?’ 

‘Sure,’ Ricky’s mouth says and Chris pauses his stuffing to glance up at him, smiling. 

‘Great,’ he says, and Ricky notices he’s blushing, ‘I mean— I’m not wasting a faceful of make-up on going home and watching _Netflix_.’

‘Right,’ Ricky grins, he grabs his rucksack and holds the door open for Chris, letting his hand press in the small of his back as if to guide him down the stairs. He glances back once and flicks off the studio lights.

**Author's Note:**

> Final four! 🙌 Not sure what I'm going to do with myself when I'm not being noisy in the miw tag everyday 😅
> 
> (*marina, please feel free to pretend you haven't read the middle section of this 😅)
> 
> [xyours-eternallyx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xyours-eternallyx) on tumblr 🙌


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